“Who is she?”

“Don’t you know?  I thought everybody knew about her.  She wrote ’Uncle Tom’s Cabin.’”

“Oh, I saw that acted at the theatre once.  Does she live here?”

“She has a place up the river aways, but it is deserted now.  She used to come down here quite often.  We’ll row straight across the river.  Did you ever row, Beth?”

“No, but you can teach me, can’t you?”

“All right.  Now move very carefully.  I wouldn’t have you fall overboard for the world.”

Harvey suspended the oars in the air while Beth took the seat beside him.  Then he showed her how to hold the oar.

“Now begin so—­carefully and with me.”

“That’s easy.  Is that all there is to rowing?”

“It won’t be so easy presently.”

Beth pulled away with ail her might, and in silence.  Suddenly, there was a splash of water on her side, and she almost tumbled into the bottom of the boat.  Harvey laughed.

“I thought you’d be catching a crab before long.”

Beth’s eyes opened wide.  “I didn’t see any crab, Harvey.  My oar just balked.”

“That’s what is called catching a crab, you know, when your oar doesn’t go far enough into the water.  Say, Beth, you had better not try to row any more.  It’ll tire you.  Don’t you want to stop?”

“No indeed.  I like to row.”

Again Beth pulled away with all her might.  Very soon, she began to feel uncomfortably warm.  Her hands burned terribly, and presently she rested a moment on her oar and pointed to the land, now within easy rowing distance.

“Wouldn’t that be a good spot for our picnic?”

Harvey saw how tired she was and answered: 

“It’s just the place, and say, Beth, we’ll catch some fish, first.  Here are lines and bait.”

They thereupon went to fishing, and both caught a number of fish.

“Now,” said Harvey, “it’s time to go ashore and cook them.”

“Oh, I’m so terribly hungry I can’t wait.  I didn’t have any breakfast.”

“Why, you poor child.  Why didn’t you say so before?”

“I didn’t think of it.  I was having such a good time.”

“I couldn’t forget that I hadn’t had breakfast.  How did it happen?”

Beth hung her head.  She was thinking of her choleric spouse, and she had hard work forcing the tears back.

“How did it happen, Beth?”

“Why—­it just happened.  That’s all.  I’m dreadfully hungry, Harvey.”

“Suppose then, you eat a sandwich or so, now, and then we’ll cook the fish and have lunch later.”

Harvey thought he could also eat a sandwich.  It ended by their eating three apiece.  Then he assisted her out of the boat, which he moored fast on shore.

“Now for the fish, Beth.”

“How are we going to cook them?  Have you any matches?”

“Yes, and there’s a frying-pan in my boat.  I always carry one, as I cook fish quite often.  Didn’t I see some butter and salt in the lunch basket?”